A Boy of Many Names
by Kila9Nishika
Summary: Boy has no name, so when he ends up in the care of Michelle and her friends, he gains more than a home - he gains three, very unusual, names.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, or the HP Universe, or any of that stuff, yada yada yada, PLEASE REVIEW!

**Many Thanks to the Ever-Gracious Tover**,** who translated my horrible attempts at French into the actual language. Thank you, thank you, Tover!**

**AN: **At the bottom will be a translation for any non-English in the story. As I don't actually speak anything but English, my translations were done by a computer. If I messed up, and you know the way to fix it, please please tell me. I really dislike being messy.

* * *

**A Boy of Many Names**

A small boy with black hair stared out the window of the bus as they sped through London. Aunt Petunia, a horse-like woman with blonde hair, was tapping her foot impatiently while her porky son, Dudley, stared about with piggy little eyes.

His name was unknown to him, but the boy often thought of himself as "Boy."

As the bus moved down the streets of London, Boy saw the barest edge of a beautiful Park, gated in only a few blocks away.

Determined not to forget it, Boy fixed the image into his mind, as a comfort when difficult times would come.

"BOY! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT! OR I'LL –"

The house shook as a man nearly as wide as he was tall barreled through the halls, chasing after a tiny, wiry boy. The boy pushed his black hair out of his face, and ducked under the railing of the stairs, jumping down to the next level, only to freeze as he found himself cornered.

"BOY! I'M GOING TO –"

The boy backed up into a wall, and curled up, his hands in from of his face.

"Don' hurt me," he whimpered. "Don'… Don'…"

The man raised one meaty fist, and swung down. The boy screamed, and tears poured down his cheeks as he summoned up a memory to keep himself from hysterics.

The man raised his fist to hit the boy again, but when his hand came down, it made a dent in the wall. A loud cracking noise, like a gunshot, split the air. The boy was gone.

* * *

Michelle Stanford loved to be around music. Guitar, piano, song – it didn't matter the conduit, she loved it. Personally, she owned a piano and a guitar.

Michelle was a student at the Emilia Thrush Academy of Music and Performing Arts, and she was proud of it. It took talent and hard work to be a student here, and she loved the place like the second home it was.

Plus, there was another important part of living in the "Academy Arc," as it was sometimes referred to. The Gazing Gardens.

The Gazing Gardens was a park that was frequented by the students and teachers at the nearby academies: Emilia Thrush Academy of Music and Performing Arts, MacDonald and Dickens' Collegium of Literature and Language, the Nicholas Hawksmoor School of Art and Architecture, and the Geometric Square (with all of the various science and math groups within it).

Every day, people of all types filled the Gardens from the Maze to the Gazebo to the Balconies to the Stages and Astronomy Tower (which wasn't much of a tower). Michelle, personally, went to find inspiration for her music, as well as to just enjoy her free morning out in the beautiful park. She, herself, liked watching the lake from a bench by the central fountain.

Snagging a muffin from the cafeteria on her way out, Michelle breathed a sigh of contentment as she looked around the Gardens. What more could a person want?

A loud cracking sound, like breaking ice, shocked Michelle out of her reverie. What she saw when she turned around made her gasp.

A tiny boy, who _couldn't_ be more than four, was crumpled on the ground. He had a large bruise over one large green eye, and a wild black mane of hair that was the most adorable mop she had ever seen on a child so small.

Hesitantly, Michelle took a step forward. "Hello," she whispered, leaning down to the little boy's level. "My name is Michelle."

Vivid green eyes froze Michelle in place. "'Lo," a quiet voice said. "'Lo, Chelle. M'name's Boy."

At noon, Michelle was seated on one of the balconies overlooking the lake, the boy next to her. She had been shocked that the boy seemed to refer to himself as Boy, but she was sure that one of her friends from MacDonald and Dickens' would have a good name for him.

"Na na na na…"

Michelle looked up at the boy. After helping him clean up a little with water from the fountain, he looked more adorable than ever. Of course, the fact that he was wearing a discarded shirt from Erik Morisson, one of the painters from Nicholas Hawksmoor, just added to the cute factor. She glanced at the boy, who was currently singing along with her as she strummed idly on her guitar.

"Would you like to learn the notes?" she asked, smiling as the boy's face lit in an enormous grin.

"Yeh! I'd love t'learn t'notes!" Michelle noted that the boy seemed to have a good vocabulary for someone his age, but a lack of clear enunciation. Oh, well. She'd work on that.

"Well, then," she said, leaning back a little in her chair. "The first note is 'Do.'" Michelle plucked the string a couple of times. Do, do, do, do.

"Do!"

"Next is 'Re.'" Michelle couldn't hold back a slight grin at the sight of the tiny boy bouncing up and down, singing, (perfectly,) "Re, re, re, re!"

"You know," Michelle said, after they had finished the notes. "I think I'll call you Ray. For the note, Re. Is that all right with you?"

The enormous, beaming smile she got in return was answer enough.

* * *

"He needs an official name, Michelle. Since we can't find _any_ records of his existence, we need to make some."

Mik and Taisha Gordon were both part of the MacDonald and Dickens'. Mik was there for Ancient Literature in the original Latin, Welsh, French, and Greek. Taisha was there for a five-year learning-to-teach-Poetry class. Of the twins, Mik was the quieter, and Taisha was the friendly, outgoing one. Taisha was also the organizer of "The Group."

The Group was a group of people from every part of Academy Arc, who all got together and talked. Some people dated each other, while others found themselves families away from home.

Currently, The Group was meeting about the little stray that Michelle had nicknamed "Ray." He had been staying in Michelle's dorm room, and didn't seem to have a home _or_ a real name.

"Taisha, I have an idea." Mik touched his sister's shoulder, and pointed to the person who had spoken up, a young pianist oddly named Canary Bolden.

Taisha brushed a curl of her light-brown hair from her face. "Yeah, Canny?"

Canary blushed. "Well, what if we each – that is to say, each school – come up with one name for him. Like, Michelle called him Ray, which could be after the _note_ Re, or a nickname for another name, like –"

"Sirius!" One of the younger teens from Geometric Square called out. "Like the star. Sirius."

Michelle turned to Ray. "Do you like that? Being called Sirius?"

Ray nodded solemnly. "It soun's like a good name. Si-re-us. Yeah. But ev'one calls me Ray anyway, right?"

Michelle nodded. "So. Sirius. Any middle names? Last names?"

Mik coughed. "Ellipse."

Heads turned to face the quiet young man, who blushed. "Ellipse. The grammatical sign? For his last name."

Ray stood up. "Sirius Ellipse. That's my name?"

"Leonardo," said a young redhead who had a paintbrush behind her ear. "After Leonardo da Vinci. Call him Sirius Leonardo Ellipse."

After a glance at Ray, Michelle nodded. "I'll be his guardian. Taisha?"

Taisha stood up, grinning. "It'll take me no time to get the papers. By next week, Ray'll be Sirius Leonardo Ellipse."

And so he was.

* * *

"He's a genius! A prodigy! You say that he's already mastered French _and_ Spanish?" Master DeMarcus pinned Michelle with a gimlet stare.

Michelle resisted the urge to squirm like a little girl in front of a headmaster. "From Mik Gordon, yes. He's nearly finished learning Welsh, and his Russian is a little accented. He's up to Greek and Latin next, and moving along swiftly. As to the normal lower school curriculum, well…" She held back an unseemly grin. "Ray's nearly further along than most fifteen-year-olds in the maths and sciences, and I figure that he's just about six. He's got this _hunger_ for learning, and if you put it to music, he'll have it down by the time the sun sets."

"Really?" Madam Getarre leaned forward in her chair. Michelle felt rather uncomfortable in the room with all of the Heads of the Board, but she pressed on.

"Yes," Michelle said. "In fact, Canary Bolden taught him his squared numbers up until one hundred, to the tune of 'Sleeping Beauty Waltz.' It took him two hours, and then he was done."

The Heads looked impressed. Professor Tarthan, one of the oldest people on the Board, coughed. "How has he tested?"

Michelle blushed. "I, well – we haven't had him formally tested yet, but I'd guess him to be someplace in secondary schooling."

Eyebrows around the table were raised. Finally, the Head Board Member stood. "Have him tested when he is eight. If he can meet our standards, we will accept him in the entry classes of Music and Performing Arts."

Michelle bowed her head, and shook his hand, smiling. Success!

* * *

"Michelle!"

Michelle turned from the shelves she was re-filling with books, and smiled. "Hi, Ray. How's it going in Academy Arc?"

Michelle had graduated two months prior, and was currently working in a bookstore while she waited for her first performance.

Ray grinned, and pulled the woman he thought of as an older sister into a hug. "Vita est _mirus_, Michelle,"**1** he said, grinning.

Michelle sighed. "Latin? Ray, why are you speaking in Latin?"

Ray's wide green eyes sparkled. "Canary pollicitus ut persolvo parumper medicus occulto meus vix, si Ego narro tantum Latin parumper mensis."**2**

Michelle snorted, and shook her head. Only Sirius Leonardo Ellipse would promise to speak only in Latin for a month, just so that he could get a painful cosmetic surgery to rid himself of the odd scar on his forehead.

"How is Canary? She hasn't been answering my calls." Michelle walked over to get another pile of books.

Mischief shone in Ray's wicked grin. "Canary philologus admiratio of res per a vir. Videlicet Erik."**3**

Michelle choked. "Sirius Leonardo Ellipse!"

The mischief in his eyes didn't cease. "Verum, Ego sudo. Ego admiratio lemma per nonnullus… lascivio."**4**

Michelle shook her head. "Oh, Ray, what am I going to do with you? No, don't answer that."

Ray grinned. "Vos auditus Ego? Ego obduco expertus. Ego sum perfectus per secundus, iam."**5**

Michelle gasped. "No, I hadn't heard! Oh, have you celebrated yet?"

"Haud, Ego exspecto insquequo vos auditus."**6**

"Then we shall celebrate," Michelle said firmly, dragging Ray out of the store.

* * *

"Sirius Leonardo Ellipse you get back here this instant!"

"Non!"**7**

A slim blonde in a pleated black skirt and grey vest stumbled over a pile of books on the floor. "Give me back my flute, and put your silly books in Gobbledegook _away_!"

"Pas Gobbledegook, grec! Et ta flûte est sur le piano!"**8**

Canary Bolden skidded to a stop, and nearly fell over another pile of books as she turned towards the piano. A flapping by the window caught her attention.

"Sirius Leonardo, are you playing a prank on me?"

"Moi? Jamais! Pourquoi me poses-tu la question?"**9**

"There is an _owl_ at the window, and it has a _letter_. Is Michelle training letter-carrying owls because I haven't answered her calls?"

Ray tripped. "Un _hibou_? Michelle n'entraîne pas de hiboux. Qu'est qu'un hibou fait…oh."**10**

There, flapping by the window of their shared dorm, was a grey owl carrying a _letter_. The owl dropped the letter and sat calmly on the windowsill, while Canary picked up the heavy paper. "It's addressed to you, Ray. Sirius Ellipse, Canary's Dorm, Emilia Thrush's Academy of Music and Performing Arts, Academy Arc, London, England. What an odd way to address a letter."

Ray snatched the letter out of Canary's hands, and tore it open. "_Merde!_ Canary, regarde ça!"**11**

Canary leaned over Ray's shoulder. "I wish you wouldn't… swear… bloody _hell_."

"Pas de mots vulgaires,"**12** Ray said absently. "Ce n'est pas une blague, n'est-ce pas?"**13**

Canary shrugged. "It looks official enough. Look, you'll be finishing at Galileo Glade in a month, and the letter claims that this "Hogwarts" starts in two months. That's plenty of time. Send a letter back, see what happens."

Ray shrugged, and walked away towards his room. A loud crash made the boy smirk, and slam his door.

"SIRIUS LEONARDO ELLIPSE GET YOUR BOOKS OFF OF MY DESK!"

* * *

Minerva McGonagall stared at the letter she had received in sheer astonishment.

_Dear Headmistress,_ it read, _I am pleased to accept said place as a student in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As I am not part of a magical family, to my belief, I would be most thankful if someone could help me get my supplies._

_Sincerely,_

_Sirius Leonardo Ellipse_

But that wasn't the shocking part of the letter. No, the shocking part of the letter was that it went on and was translated into French, Spanish, Italian, Russian, German, Latin, and Greek!

Reaching for a pinch of Floo Powder, Minerva decided to go call Filius. As the Head of Ravenclaw, he'd be perfect for this young man.

* * *

Eyes flickering furtively around the train station, a small boy of about eleven leaned casually against one of the pillars – and vanished.

Ray looked around. Wizards were everywhere. He sighed. _Just get to the train_, he thought. Just then, something hit him in the back.

"Ow!" He turned, and saw an embarrassed-looking girl with bushy brown hair.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't see you there."

Ray shrugged. "S'fine. I'm Sirius. Sirius Leonardo Ellipse, incoming first year. What's your name?"

The girl blinked. "Oh. My name is Hermione Granger. Do you know, I do believe that you are the first person I have ever met that had a more unusual name than me. Did you know that Sirius –"

"Is the name of the 'Canis Astrum,' the Dog Star. Yeah. I was named, in this order; after the Dog Star, after Leonardo da Vinci, and after the grammatical ellipse. Oh, and my nickname is Ray, after the note. Like, Do Re Mi."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"Well," Hermione said, as they boarded the train. "Would like to share a compartment with me?"

Ray grinned. "So long as you don't mind me doing a project while we're there."

What's the project?" Hermione asked curiously, lifting her heavy brown trunk.

Ray lifted his own trunk with a grunt. "I'm translating _The Odyssey_ from the original Greek into French. Oh, and then…" He dug in his pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper, squinting at it. "Canny wants me to translate it into Welsh as well. Hunh."

"Canny?"

"Oh." Ray pushed open the door to an empty compartment, and gestured for Hermione to precede him. "Canny was my roommate back in Academy Arc. She plays the piano and the flute. Full name's Canary Bolden."

"Ah."

With that, Hermione took out _Hogwarts, a History_, and began to read, paying no attention to the _scritch, scritch_ of Ray's pen as he translated and copied. About halfway through the ride, the door to their compartment opened to reveal a small boy with sleek blonde hair and a pointed nose.

The boy took one look at them, and said, "Have either of you seen Harry Potter? He's supposed to be on the train."

Hermione looked up. "Haven't seen him. Who are you?"

The boy stuck his nose in the air. "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I am a Pureblood."

Hermione blinked. "Ah. I am Hermione Granger."

There was a moment's pause, and then Malfoy made a slight coughing noise. "Ahem. What's your name?"

Ray looked up. "Hm? I'm Sirius Leonardo Ellipse. What did you say your name was again?"

Malfoy sneered. "Draco Malfoy."

Ray's eyes widened. "Malfoy? Parles-tu français? Ton nom est français."**14**

"Hunh?" Draco looked confused, and Hermione swallowed a giggle. Ray sighed, and looked disappointed. "Quis super Latin? Operor vos narro Latin, Putus-cruor?"**15**

Draco looked upset and overwhelmed. Ray just looked frustrated. In English, he continued, "I would have thought that Wizarding families taught their children Latin, at least, and that a family from France that prides themselves on being _Pure_ would teach their children French. Oh, well. I'll find someone."

And with that, Ray returned to his copying, Hermione returned to her book, and Draco Malfoy left.

* * *

"Ellipse, Sirius Leonardo," Minerva McGonagall called. She watched with mournful eyes as a small boy who had black hair to rival a Potter's hair walked up. Harry Potter had not shown up, and she was going to KILL Albus Too-Many-Names Dumbledore!

_Well, hello there, young man._

Ray raised his eyebrows. _So,_ he thought. _You talk in my head?_

The hat-voice laughed. _Clever, clever… very clever. You would have made a fine Slytherin, once, but you are not quite selfish enough, now, nor are you as concerned with self-preservation as you once were._

Ray snorted. _Yes, Slytherin? I was approximately four years old. Grow up, Hat. You're one thousand years old._

Hat gave another chuckle. _Yes, yes, you certainly are a smart-aleck. Much too clever for Gryffindor, and too passionate for Hufflepuff… there really is only one place for you, isn't there?_

Ray smirked. _Bring it on_.

_Very well then,_ the Hat said. _I place you in…_

"RAVENCLAW!"

* * *

**AN:** Please, Please, Please Review! Also, should I continue this story, or not?

**AN2**: I have a poem that I wrote in honor of Lily Potter. Should I post it?

**AN3: **Also, please vote on the poll! I need to know so that I can continue Eileen Dunbar's story (diary).

**AN4:** Alright, alright, here are the translations.

* * *

**TRANSLATIONS!::**

1 – Life is _wonderful_, Michelle.

2 – Canary promised to pay for a doctor to hide my scar, if I speak only Latin for a month.

3 – Canary learned the wonders of being with a man. Namely, Erik.

4 – Truth, I promise. I surprised them during some... play.

5 – You heard from me? I passed the tests. I am finished with secondary, now.

6 – No, I waited until you heard.

7 – No!

8 – Not Gobbledegook, Greek! And your flute is on the piano!

9 – Me? Never! Why are you asking?

10 – An _owl_? Michelle is not training owls. What is an owl doing... oh.

11 – Damn! Canary, look at this!

12 – No dirty words.

13 – It isn't a joke, is it?

14 – Do you speak French? Your name is French.

15 – What about Latin. Do you speak Latin, Pure-blood?


End file.
